Monday, October 18, 2010
I'd Live In Cougarville!
But, because I am a freak-a-nellie, I can't just let my imagination run with my life in Cougarville. Nope. I have to set the stage and make sure everybody is happy before I can go off and enjoy my fake life. Why??? Well, there's the hubby and kids to think about. For me to leave and be all happy in my little cape house, they need to be out of the picture...but how??
I know, I have to work on my fantasy skills. I suck at it.
How's this...hubby up and left me, took off with a bimbo from the office. Trite, sure - but it might just work. I couldn't have him die from cancer (wahhh) or take a job in Singapore to support us (awww). No, we'll settle for the fact that he's a bum - makes the fantasy that much more sweeeeeet!!!
Okay, hubby's gone. Kids...crap. I don't want to be a cougar with my kids hanging around. They'll be all like, "Gross mom." And I'd be all, "Really? You think he's gross?" And they'd be all, "No, mom it's wicked gross that you're with him." So the kids gotta go. But where? Um, maybe they're are all in prison. No, I wouldn't be able to be happy with my boy toy (BT) if I knew all my children were in prison. I mean come on, I have four. What could they all have done? Planned and executed a robbery? Well, my oldest would have been too lazy to do anything but sit and drive the get-away car, my second would have to be the actual robber since he's all sly and likeable. The third would be the mastermind as he's the thinking man, but my daughter? What would she do? Be the one they hoist from the ceiling into the vault. She is small, it could work.
But no, they can't be in jail. Maybe they have all graduated from college and are old enough to not think it's so gross.. Hmmmm..daughter is too young, we are talking 10 more years. That would be gross. I'd be like a mid-fifty cougar. Forget that. It has to happen now!
Maybe the kids become actors and they're all on a Disney show and are living the Cali life and are like, "Mom who?" and I'm all like "Hey, I'm your mom, what about me?" And they'll be like, "Mom, go off and have a life for yourself will you? We can handle our finances, we have brother #3." And I'll be all, "Fine, I'm moving to Cougarville."
Okay, that seems bloody unlikely. Whew. This is getting exhausting. Um, maybe I really am a hot 56 year old (I do work out) and the kids are all in college and working their jobs and having their own lives. Yes, let's go with that one. Now the fantasy begins.
I move down to Cougarville and get a little cape (on the ocean, of course). Do I take all my furniture from my old house? Do I sell my old house? Is this a permanent move? Sure. Too many bad memories here. Okay, moving day. I'm all yelling at the movers to be careful. Hey, I'm mid-fifties and probably going through menopause, so I'm pretty pissed at them, I'm sure. Some of this stuff is very meaningful. Those candles were given to us on our wedding day 30 years ago. Yikes. Would I even still care about shit like that? And where's the BT? Isn't he supposed to be carrying something, flexing some muscles or something? And the house needs a paint job. Does my BT paint? Will he fix my flat iron when the cord develops a loose connection? Oh this is too freakin' much! I need a glass of wine!
Here's what probably, most likely, definitely happens.
On the way to visit colleges, hubby and I are in the car with the four kids in the back. They are all plugged in to various electronic devices, completely ignoring us and each other. The wind is whipping my newly straightened hair as hubby puts his hand on my knee. "We got here together," he says and smiles.
I look up and see a sign "Entering Cougarville - Population 6" (cause really, not many of us live here). As we drive quickly through, I catch the look of one of the women, she's alone on the street and looks like hell (I guess getting letters from all your kids in prison can do a job on a woman), she catches my eye and with a very sad, almost weary gaze, she tries to smile and gives me a little wave.
As we drive by - I wave back.